


The Soup Story

by Azazel



Category: Leverage
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Sickness, brief mention of nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 06:20:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4211328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azazel/pseuds/Azazel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Parker shows up in Eliot's house unexpectedly and very sick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Soup Story

Weeks. It had been weeks since they had a job and Eliot was slowly going out of his mind with boredom. Nate had put a moratorium on texts and phone calls stating, in no uncertain terms, he was not to be contacted with questions about a job. Eliot had weeded, pruned, fertilized, watered or otherwise maintained his garden to within an inch of every plant’s life. Then he had torn apart and rebuilt the engines of both his truck and Challenger. Then he reworked the exhaust profiles. And the suspensions. When he ran out of things to build, rebuild, or plant he trained. When he couldn’t train any more he cooked, sometimes in the Pub and sometimes at home. It just never really seemed like enough to work him into the kind of exhaustion he was looking for. 

The monotony was abruptly broken one rainy Tuesday afternoon when he walked into his bedroom to find someone in his bed that did not belong there. The lump of blankets didn’t shift when he took a defensive stance, though. It did, however, let loose a series of hacking coughs. Scowling, a thousand and one scenarios flying through his mind, Eliot approaches the bed and its possibly infectious occupant. The spill of wheat colored hair is his only clue to the identity of the intruder but it is enough. Even though they have worked together for years it still manages to unnerve him that Parker can sneak up on him. 

Shaking his head he grabs a handful of the duvet and throws it back to reveal the thief curled on her side. She looks downright pitiful. The sweats she is wearing are old and worn but what catches his eye is her pallid complexion. There are dark circles under her eyes and her skin looks a bit clammy. Eyes that are normally vibrant blue meet his but they are glazed with fever. 

Letting a slight growl enter his voice Eliot asks, “Parker, what the hell are you doing here?”

Even though her voice is barely above a whisper he hears her say, “Sick.”

It takes him a moment to settle on a neutral tone before stating, “I can see that. But it does not explain why you are here. In my bed.”

“Sick….. can’t. Just… Eliot. Need. Please?” Her hand flops uselessly against his pillow and she starts to shiver. Looking down he sees she is barefoot and her feet are filthy and slightly bloody on the bottom. He glares and reaches out to put his palm on her forehead. Her skin is dry and overheated but her hair is damp. 

“Parker, when was the last time you had something to eat or drink?”

She startles like she had forgotten he was in the room then her nose scrunches up and she croaks, “Dunno. Yesterday maybe.”

Eliot sighs deeply through his nose, puts his hands on his hips and shakes his head. Decision made he pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials the number of a doctor he knows won’t ask too many questions and isn’t against making house calls. Hanging up he tosses the phone to the foot of the bed. Parker has taken the opportunity to go back to sleep. Shaking his head again he turns and walks to the master bath. He is about to turn on the shower when he thinks better of it and instead plugs the deep claw-footed bathtub and twists the taps. In moments steam begins to swirl into the air. 

Leaving the tub to fill he returns to the bedroom to find Parker in the midst of a fever dream. She thrashes weakly when he shakes her shoulder. Finally her eyes slit open and roll until they land on him.

“Come on, Parker. Let’s get you cleaned up then the doc’s comin’ by to take a look at you,” Eliot coaxes. She shifts like she is going to sit up but quickly runs out of steam and breath. Eliot shakes his head again but leans down to pull her arm over his shoulders then lifts her with one arm under her knees and the other behind her back. She is practically limp, her head lolling against his shoulder. Heat pours from her body and through the layers of clothing to scorch Eliot’s skin. 

The tub is more than halfway to full when he gets her into the bathroom. He sets her on the counter leaning against the wall. After turning off the water he grabs several bottles out of the shower and sets them on the floor next to the tub. Parker watches until another coughing fit causes her lungs to seize. Tears stream down her face as she struggles to regain breath. Eliot has to thump her on the back twice before her chest heaves and she draws a painful sounding breath. 

Tilting her head up with his thumb under her chin he searches her face. She blinks back at him with a somewhat vacant expression until he says, “You ready?”

Nodding, some of the delirium leaves her eyes as she mumbles, “When you are.”

Eliot raises an eyebrow at the dubious agreement but pushes on, “I don’t think you’re gonna be okay on your own. You alright with me helping you?”

Again she nods, a little more enthusiastically than before, and says, “Need you…. Stay…. Safe.” 

He frowns as the slur but knows he cannot leave her alone. Before he can change his mind about the whole idea, though, she is plucking at the collar of her sweatshirt, pulling it over her head. His eyes dart up to the mirror above the sink. The pale expanse of her back is on display but it is nothing he has not seen before so it seems safe. His frown deepens when he sees just how thin she has become and he guesses it has been more than just one day since she last ate. 

He is startled out of his observation by Parker’s hand landing on his shoulder as she attempts to stand on her own. She wobbles for a moment but manages to hook her free hand into the waistband of her sweats and shove them down. Eliot’s eyes narrow at the sharp jut of her pelvis. The wobble turns into a slow collapse making his hands shoot out to catch her around the waist. Her bare skin is even hotter than he had thought. Supporting most of her less-than-considerable weight he moves them both to the edge of tub. Her quiet whimper draws his attention to her lost look. She shifts from one foot to the other but can’t seem to get the strength to lift them. His lips draw into a thin line as he stoops to hook his elbow behind her knees and lift her again. One of her hands curls loosely in his hair as he lowers her to the water. She shudders with a low whine in the back of her throat. The water is hot but still cooler than her skin.

She sucks a breath through her teeth and moans, “Hurts.”

“I know darlin’. I’m sorry,” he intones. Propping her back against the tub he pulls off his outer shirt which is now soaked to above the elbows. Tossing the sopping shirt into the sink he turns back to find Parker staring at the faucet shivering slightly. Figuring he had better get this done quickly he puts a hand on her shoulder calling to her, “Parker. You need to lean back so I can get your hair wet.”

Curling her hands around the lip of the tub she scoots forward. Eliot sees her knuckles go white as she grips the porcelain then she takes a deep breath only to have the air hiss out between her teeth when she tips back. Her eyes are glossy and wide until he slips one hand behind her neck under the water. Cupping his free hand he uses it to pour water over any hair left exposed. When her hair is saturated he gently lifts her back to a sitting position. Parker’s hands never leave the tub’s curved edge. The scent of apples fills the air when Eliot pops open the lid of one of the bottles he retrieved from the shower. He tips some shampoo into his palm then snaps the bottle shut and sets it back with the others on the floor. Parker has stopped staring at the faucet and is staring at him now. She blinks owlishly at him as he reaches out and starts to work the shampoo into her hair. 

“Close your eyes,” he rumbles.

Even as she closes her eyes she grouses, “Can’t. ‘ll fall.”

Eliot sighs, “You won’t. I’ve got you.”

Parker smiles serenely and giggles, “Your job. Safe.”

Snorting, Eliot shakes his head and continues to work the fruity lather through her sweat-sticky hair. When he is satisfied with how clean her hair is he says, “Okay time to rinse.” They repeat the process of lean back, cup hand, soak hair. When all the suds are gone he pulls her up. She sways gently, sloshing water up the sides of the tub. 

With a shuddering breath she whispers, “C’n I open my eyes now?”

Eliot grunts in surprise and grinds out a quick, “Yeah.” Then he pops open the bottle of conditioner and squirts a dollop into his hand. After rubbing his hands together he runs his fingers through her hair again. Rinsing the slick conditioner off his hands in the bath water he takes a moment to consider his next move. Her feet are his biggest concern, but the residue of sweat and sickness is still on her skin. 

He is startled out of his contemplation when Parker hums and flicks water at him. Her eyes look somewhat clearer but they still have a bit of fever-shine. Taking a deep breath he wraps a hand around the back of her neck again and tells her, “Back one more time.”

The conditioner takes longer to rinse out than the shampoo did but it gives him time to decide on a course of action. Frowning he thinks he will just have to leave some things up to her to preserve some modicum of boundaries. 

After getting her sitting up again he moves to a shelf holding towels and pulls down a washcloth. When he turns back he finds Parker splashing water on her face and scrubbing with her hands. Grabbing the bottle of castile soap off of the floor he hands it to her along with the washcloth and asks, “If I help you with your feet you think you can handle the rest?”

She nods, working the bottle open and splashing some soap onto the cloth. 

Narrowing his eyes he says, “I’m gonna go find you somethin’ to wear. I’ll be right back.”

She makes a questioning noise but doesn’t look up from where she is diligently washing her arm. 

He makes quick work of searching his drawers for an old pair of sweats and a well-worn tank top. Grabbing the hoodie he had been wearing earlier that day when he was out in the garden he heads back to the bathroom and sets the bundle on the counter. Parker has one leg propped on the edge of the tub while she rubs the soapy cloth over her calf muscle. 

Her eyes flick up to him before she mutters, “Can’t reach m’ back. Or my feet.” As if to emphasize her statement she wiggles her toes. Grumbling under his breath Eliot kneels by the tub and takes the cloth from her. With a couple more splashes of the castile soap he wipes the soft cotton over the skin covering the knobs of her spine. Parker hums tunelessly and leans farther forward to give him better access. Swiping her lower back one last time he wrings the cloth out and reaches up to touch her shoulder. 

“Time for your feet,” he says.

The corners of her eyes crinkle as she smiles and wiggles her toes again. He shakes his head but gently cradles her ankle in one hand while scouring the street grime off with the other. Thankfully the skin is mostly intact with only a few scrapes. When he switches feet he finds more of the same. Releasing her foot he states, “All done. Time to get out. Doc’ll be here soon.”

She yawns hugely and nods, tucking her legs under her and trying to stand. He gets a hand under her elbow before she can sway. She grabs his forearm for balance as she lifts one leg then the other out of the water. A low moan rolls out of her chest as her toes curl against the cold tile. 

Eliot wraps a thick towel around her shoulders, rubbing down her arms. She gathers the material closer while he uses a smaller towel to squeeze water out of her hair. Reaching over to the counter he digs the sweats out of the pile of clothes. Crouching he holds them out while she puts a hand on his shoulder and steps into them. Drawing the sweats up her legs he tightens the drawstring as much as he can but they still hang low on her hips. She drops the towel when he hands her the tank top. It takes her a minute to maneuver her arms into the shirt and the shirt over her head. He huffs a laugh at the sight of her looking so tiny in his clothes. She scowls but says nothing. The hoodie is next and, once on, it makes her look smaller still. 

They make the shuffling trip back to the bedroom where Parker takes a seat at the foot of the bed. The doorbell draws a flinch from her.

Raising an eyebrow at her reaction Eliot goes to let the Doctor in. Parker can hear the muffled sound of conversation that she guesses is about her but when Eliot returns he just says, “Doc’s ready for you.”

He leads her to the living room where a tall brunette woman is standing near the couch. The woman smiles at her and holds out a hand. Parker blinks at the offered hand. When it becomes clear there will be no handshake the woman drops her hand back to her side and her smile fades a little.

Parker notices a slight thickening of Eliot’s accent when he tells the Doctor, “Sorry, Doc. Shoulda warned you. Parker ain’t one for niceties.” He turns to Parker and says, “This is Doctor Maria Rosenthal. She’s gonna have a look at you. Be nice. I’m gonna go fix the bed.”

Brows drawn Parker looks back at Doctor Maria Rosenthal. She is not sure what it is about the Doctor but she doesn’t like her. 

When Eliot returns to the living room he finds to two women in something of a standoff. Maria is sitting on the coffee table holding a tourniquet in one hand and one of Parker’s hands in the other. Parker looks ready to either punch Maria or bolt. Maybe both.

“Hey, Doc, what’s goin’ on?” he asks with just a hint of growl.

Trying hard to hide a glare Maria responds, “I was just telling Parker she is dehydrated. I want to place an IV, however, she is being… difficult.”

Rolling his eyes toward the ceiling Eliot takes a deep breath before stating flatly, “Parker, let the Doc do her job.”

Parker gasps then throws Eliot a dirty look. Maria looks triumphant. It only takes her a few moments to insert the IV. Pulling the latex gloves off she starts putting her things away in a small rolling suitcase. With that done she stands and walks over to Eliot. She puts her hand on his arm when she says, “I left a few banana bags and a course of antivirals, use both. Make sure she eats and if her fever spikes again call me.”

Quirking an eyebrow at Parker, who is staring a hole in Maria’s back, he says, “Sure thing, Doc. And thanks again.” 

As soon as the door closes behind the doctor Parker is grumbling, “Probably wants to poison me.”

Eliot glowers but chooses not to indulge her. Instead he asks, “What do you want for dinner?”

Parker’s eyes light up and she points to a small backpack on the chair opposite her. Eliot approaches the bag warily but it isn’t rigged. Inside are several cans with bright red labels and gold lettering.

Eliot snarls, “I am not making you condensed soup.”

When he doesn’t get a response he turns to find Parker hunched over, staring at his feet. Softening his tone he asks, “You want me to make you some chicken noodle from scratch?”

Parker shrugs. Eliot huffs and tries again, “You really want this cra- stuff?”

In a small voice she responds, “Yeah. Please?”

Shaking his head at her he agrees, “Alright. But you have to tell me why.”

Parker hesitates before answering in the same small voice, “One of my foster-moms. One of the good ones. She used to make it when any of the kids were sick. She made it for me, too. She was busy all the time but she always made sure us kids had soup when we were sick.”

Pulling one of the cans out of the bag Eliot turns toward the kitchen and calls over his shoulder, “Alright, I’ll make it for you this time but next time I’m making you the real deal.”

Parker smiles and whispers, “Thanks.”


End file.
